


let the sea birds cry

by doctor__idiot



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Black Sails Confinement Challenge, Episode Related, M/M, Season 3, delirious, prompt: becalmed, silver pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: Maybe Silver was losing his mind after all.Written for the Black Sails Confinement Challenge. Prompt: a ship, becalmed, angsty, delirious, desperate.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: Black Sails Confinement Challenge





	let the sea birds cry

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for this fandom and the first piece of writing I've produced in months. Be proud of me.
> 
> Title and lyrics at the beginning from "King" by The Amazing Devil. Music while writing: [Flint & Silver Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4HQHScOYXXwtsPfK2oFPyp?si=6UYwHTi8RNOR_4kzW1Nx6g)
> 
> Unbeta'd. If you find typos or mistakes, they're yours. Keep them. Care for them as if they're your own.

There’ve been times I know I’ll stand up at the bow  
And the waves of our bodies and the smell of our follies rips into the bark of my bones.  
_–_ King, _The Amazing Devil_  
  


Maybe Silver was losing his mind after all. Maybe the hunger and the dehydration were getting to him after all. Maybe Billy had been right.

Although there had been lean times in his life, he couldn’t remember a time where he had been this hungry. If anything, it was a relief that the lack of fresh water would kill them all first.

“He’s conjured us into it,” he had said to Billy, speaking as if Flint was some kind of sea god, knowing the bosun would question his sanity. Sanity had begun to slip from Silver’s grasp more and more since he had decided to stick with this crew. It didn’t much matter.

Maybe he was delirious, maybe they all were. If the wind didn’t pick up soon or they happened upon a miracle, in a few days, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Strangely, the thought didn’t scare him all that much.

He stood by the bow of the ship, sea salt-dry hands keeping him upright on the railing. The sun was unyielding while the air remained entirely still, barely even moving the hairs that had come loose from the leather band at the back of Silver’s head. Breathing was exhausting but he kept staring across the silent water. Waiting for something. Anything.

If was like the sea had tired itself out, attempting to drag the _Walrus_ and its crew to the bottom of the ocean in a storm wilder than Silver had ever experienced, before simply … giving up. More and more, he had begun to think of the sea as a living, breathing entity. And more and more, he wondered how Flint fit into this.

He seemed like a natural extension of it, born from the waves, appearing and disappearing with them. Relentless, unyielding, miraculous.

Silver pried his lips apart, wet them with a tongue that felt entirely too dry. Most of the crew was strewn across the ship, some seeking shelter from the sun below deck, others simply too exhausted to move. That twinge of guilt in Silver’s chest was back when he thought of the ones with the smallest rations, the least amount of water. The ones Flint had deemed “expendable”. He shuddered.

Silver had never wanted to be a pirate, never wanted to be part of a crew, and most days he barely tolerated half of them, but the coldness in Flint’s eyes, the rational pragmatism of it, had shocked him. Although he didn’t exactly know why it should. Flint had proven nothing if not willing to make sacrifices. His own and those of others.

Silver had no desire to ever be captain and have to make decisions like that. He might not have much pity for Flint but he certainly didn’t envy the man.

Half an hour later, they spotted the bulging whale carcass floating in the distance and, right there, Silver knew what he had to do.

Silver knew that drinking rum on a more than empty stomach was the worst thing he could do, and maybe, on a different day, in another universe, he would actually care that it might kill him.

Flint had been quiet since they got back. Not that Flint was very talkative on other days. Generally, he had little more to offer Silver than a dismissive wave of hand when he didn’t agree with him, or a quirk of his brow when he was vaguely interested in something Silver had to say. He hm’d and hem’d his way through the days where Silver had always talked too much. Talked himself out of trouble. Into trouble, sometimes. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to fill the silence so strongly when Flint always seemed unperturbed by it.

Maybe it was the hunger, the cold sweat that had broken out over his body in the past few days, making him dizzy and cracking his dry skin. The air on the ship smelt stale, as if they weren’t still in the middle of the ocean but already frozen in time, preserved in the moment.

Silver was slipping, he could feel it.

It was satisfying to see Flint, unmovable Flint, startle when Silver stumbled into his cabin, nearly crashing into his desk with how unsteady he was on his feet.

It stoked the fire in him when Flint’s eyes widened, even for just a moment, with concern before narrowing. He looked hesitant, like he wanted to ask, wanted to say something maybe, but then thought better of it.

 _Good_ , Silver thought. Whenever Flint started talking, terrible things happened.

And to make sure the Captain didn’t change his mind, Silver kissed him. Leaned all the way over the desk, overbalancing and trusting Flint to catch him, and pressed his dry lips hard against Flint’s.

Catching James Flint off guard wasn’t easily done and Silver reveled in it, even if it didn’t last for long. Flint made an indecipherable sound, in the back of his throat, and he might have pulled away if Silver’s weight hadn’t pushed him down in the chair.

Silver had his eyes screwed shut, head swimming, _delirious_ , he told himself. Otherwise, what was he doing here?

Flint’s hand came up to his throat, resting instead of pushing away, accepting instead of rejecting, and Silver was already lightheaded enough from lack of food and water, he didn’t need this.

Flint’s mouth had barely begun moving against his when he wrenched away, his scalp searing when Flint’s fingers didn’t detangle from his hair fast enough. Silver wanted to shake himself, like a wet dog, clear his head, get rid of the fog, and suddenly the Captain’s cabin was stifling. He stumbled backwards, out the way he had come.

“Progress,” Silver had said to Billy after all of them had eaten more than they had in the past few days combined. He suspected that if half the crew weren’t still on the brink of collapsing, they’d be celebrating.

Silver wasn’t much for celebrating but even he could not help the relief that coursed through him when the wind finally picked up and the sails fluttered for the first time in weeks.

Before most of the crew registered it, a change had come upon Flint. Silver was most likely the only one who noticed it, who had been watching. As everyone sprang into action and Silver made his way painfully to the stern of the ship to sidle up to Flint’s side, where he was slowly learning he belonged, Flint had grown younger somehow, smoother, the exhaustion leaving him in waves as the air swirled around them and ruffled the sea into foam.

It was unlikely that Silver would ever fully understand – Flint, the sea, a life on a run, but he could make do with the moment. He could be content for a while.

Flint turned his head towards him, eyebrow crinkling in silent confusion and Silver smiled for perhaps the first time since they’d left the harbour.


End file.
